The Lesson
by Rdr2
Summary: A pair of young Jedi learn what responsibility and reward really mean. COMPLETE


_**Character Sketch, Ran Tonno-Skeve: "The Lesson"**_

_Timeline:_ 20 years after the Battle of Yavin

He had to be very, very careful.

The blue-white kyrismodia crystal was hard to come by. Beautiful, he thought, brushing a dark, supple finger across one of its facets. A livid white scar—very small, but only one of many larger ones he had—on that finger was indicative of the trials he had faced to acquire it. The thought of that fierce quarto of gundarks woke him up at night: their gleaming teeth, four muscled arms, the smell, the anger and hunger radiating from them. He involuntarily shivered from the mere memory.

But he had survived the encounter, emerged victorious, and claimed the kyrismodia for his own. Holding it between his thumb, forefinger, and middle finger, closing his eyes, a serene expression came across his dark face. Something flew from him, from his very being, and into the crystal. It did nothing in his hand. But in his mind he saw it gleam and expand, lengthening until it was half his height, a blue-edged staff of blue light. With his eyes still shut, he eased the kyrismodia into the crystal array. There was a click.

His eyes opened, and he smiled. The crystal array had accepted the kyrismodia. Now, all he had to do was…. And he pressed the button. There was a distinctive _snap-hiss_ followed by a familiar hum. His lightsaber was complete, a blue-white beam signifying his accomplishment. His own lightsaber, built from his own hand, birthed from his own work. There must be a myth or folktale for something like this, he thought absently. If there were, he could not think of any immediate ones.

"Nice work," a lilting, yet distant and controlled, soprano noted with congratulatory undertones. A blue-skinned Twi'lek garbed in the humble homespun of a Jedi slipped into his room, hands behind her back. A lightsaber of her own fashioning hung from her belt, a prominent reminder that there were other students of the Force who had passed that hurtle long before him.

She walked with the graceful step of a highborn woman, and indeed she was. But that had been a long time ago, he knew, and now she was more scholar than noblewoman. She took his lightsaber from his hand, feeling its ribbed grip and studying the shimmering, humming blade with an academic eye. He knew that look: she was critiquing his work. He felt a twinge of irritation, as she was little older than he was and only slightly more experienced in Jedi matters. Early construction of a lightsaber was hardly cause for superiority.

But his negative feelings dissipated quickly. Ascera Dax is always like that, he thought, because if she weren't, she wouldn't be Ascera Dax! "Do you like it?" he ventured.

She looked at him, smiling thinly. "I like the handle, though it doesn't feel right to me. I imagine that it's built for your hand?" At his nod, her smirk widened. "A swordsman through and through, right? A sword just for you. I like the blade color." She deactivated the blade and handed the weapon back to him. It summarily went to his belt with a quiet click.

"So, what's up?" he inquired. It was not unusual for Ascera to come to his room as they were friends who had been together through many wild escapades and just as many quieter ones. But it was unusual for her to take an interest in lightsabers, commenting about whether or not she liked its grip or blade. Ascera, he knew, only resorted to such topics when she was agitated or searching for a way to broach a delicate topic. She was tactful, but he was not. When he asked, he did so with full bluntness.

Ascera sighed and gave up trying to find a diplomatic way of bringing the subject to light. "Master Skywalker wants to talk to us, Ran. And you know the last time he wanted to 'talk' to us." There was a dagger nature to her glare, accusatory and firm. He, Ran, knew that look. It meant _It's because of you, you know_. No malice, no disappointment in that glare, just a laying of blame that was justly his.

Ran sighed. "I guess it really wasn't smart to suggest we go to the Outer Rim for my lightsaber crystal, was it?"

"You think? I _told_ you it was a bad idea." She crossed her arms under her full breasts imperiously.

Ran held his hands up defensively. "Hey, you said, and a I quote, 'It would be unwise to go to Cranix Four.'"

"There's a difference?"

"I think there is. I mean, you never outright said that we shouldn't go."

Ascera's headtails twitched in annoyance, but Ran only smiled innocently, a line of ivory slashed across a brown face. For some reason, annoying her never stopped being entertaining. "All right, fine, from your small-minded—and highly selective—perspective, I'm sure that statement must make some modicum of sense," she said stiffly. "However, more mainstream minds, namely Master Skywalker, are standing by the traditional interpretation. You were real stupid to go on that adventure. You almost got killed by gundarks!" Her voice was strained by the end of her tirade, her aloof calmness shed for true concern for a friend.

Ran was touched, but it was an exchange that they had gone over many times in the years they had been friends. He would always propose some outrageous adventure and drag her along with him. A part of him felt apologetic for putting her—for putting both of them—in such danger, but the Force was always with them and saw them through relatively unharmed. And the cycle continued.

"Gundarks can't stop you and me, Ascera," he said in winningly.

She just shook her head, her headtails twitching in a distinctive manner. Though Ran did not understand the subtleties of the Twi'lek headtail language, he knew that that particular movement meant a new level of disappointment in him. He only smiled a carefree smile.

"Let's just go," she said resignedly, stepping out into the hallway. He followed, making sure to throw on his dark blue robe. The wide corridors of the Yavin Four academy could grow awfully cold at this time of the year.

They passed by several other students and Jedi Knights as they made their way through the praxeum grounds, and they nodded and made pleasant greetings to each. There was a familial sense of community in the halls, for there were few Jedi and everyone knew everyone else, from the youngest child to the eldest instructor. Ran felt the all-too-familiar pangs of welcome and belonging as he put foot in front of foot. Too much of his childhood had been spent alone, deprived of that warm feeling of family.

"Ran," Ascera interjected suddenly, drawing his attention. "Stop being so damn stupid, please."

"Huh?" He blinked. He had not expected that. There was a deep level of unease in the way she said the words, and it disturbed him. Ascera, even when flustered and irritated, always managed to retain some degree of control. But that control was gone now. He could feel it in the Force, and he could feel it in the simple fact that they had known each other for years.

"Okay," he said, all trace of humor gone. Ascera sounded serious, in a sad, grim way. Even he knew that comedy was inappropriate, and he was not a terribly clever person. "I'll try not to be stupid. For your sake."

Ascera looked at him sharply. "I'm serious, Ran."

"So am I. Honestly, I don't know why you sound so worried, but you are, and that means something. Don't know what yet, but its important." He threw his arms behind his head, stretching absently. It was a habit of his, a way to release his tension in conversations. Muscles loosened, others tightened, and a bit of his carefree irreverence returned. "It's kind of obvious, actually, since you're mug makes squelches up like a Rodian's snout." A flash of pain in his side, near his kidney, was the only reply.

"That's just what I mean, Ran!" She shook her head again. "That attitude, that reckless abandon that believes everything's a joke. Its going to get you hurt one day. You can't run a game without eventually losing a life. And in this game, you only have one life to lose." They stopped in front of Master Skywalker's office. Ran had not realized that they had made such rapid progress. Ascera sighed and said in that sad, serious tone that so unnerved him coming from her, "Please, Ran, as your friend, heed my words for once." Then she opened the door and walked into the office.

* * *

"Well," Ran said flippantly, "that wasn't so bad." He sauntered out of the office with a lazy gait, arms once again thrown behind his head. Relaxed only began to describe his easy stride. Troubles and worries slid from him like water on a windowpane. Ascera, on the other hand, moved with a self-conscious stiffness, a definite halting of each step. The "talk" with Master Skywalker had taken its toll on her control.

"Wasn't so bad?" she repeated, "Wasn't so bad? He was furious!"

"He was calm. You're exaggerating."

"A Jedi Master can be angry when he's calm, Ran. You have to look for the signs. The vein on his temple was a particularly blatant indication," she added dryly. "Our—your—escapades into the Outer Rim worlds nearly got us killed on every trek. And Master Skywalker knew!"

Ran scratched his head, bewildered. "You know, I've been trying to figure out how he found out about that trip to Osaran, and that adventure we had on Tatooine, and that other side trip to Ginko Seven. You got any ideas?"

The Twi'lek placed a hand against her forehead. "Sometimes I wonder if you have a brain in there."

"I'll remind you that in the tale of Aerollus and Aeres, the fool was the one who grew to be king of the empire, and his rule was marked by great prosperity," he replied, raising a lecturing finger. "That, of course, means that foolishness can be a virtue."

She threw him a withering look of familiar annoyance. "You're doing very poorly on the virtue part, Ran." They walked toward the academy's hangar bay with conversation as their companion. "I'm just glad Master Skywalker still trusts us enough to give us a mission."

"I don't see why he wouldn't. I mean, sure, we made a few mistakes on the way. But we learned from those mistakes."

"But you keep making them!" she snapped.

"No," he argued in a voice that was the epitome of Jedi serenity. "We made new mistakes." He was smiling as he made his defense.

Ascera groaned. "Let's just try not to screw this one up."

"Hey, we never screwed up any mission given to us before, Ascera. We only screwed up on the adventures I got us into. All that official Jedi business went off without a hitch. We got quite the track record, you know."

"But we also have a reputation," she muttered scathingly. "It's not a very good one either."

They arrived at the hangar bay. A few clicks on a wall control panel sent the thick blast doors sliding open to the sides. "People are saying that we're too reckless, that we chance fate whenever we can." Ascera's face contorted in consternation. "They say we even go _looking_ for trouble. Hardly proper for a pair of Jedi."

Ran walked into the bay, throwing lightly over his shoulder, "Listening to rumormongers is hardly proper for a Jedi as well, you know." He took in a deep, long breath and released it with slow, exacting care. Fuselage, metal, ozone—the smells of starships and, to him, freedom from everything. Surrounded by nimble X-wings, outdated A-wings, and a dozen other unrecognizable craft, sitting like a preening phoenix amongst sparrows, was their ride. The familiar circular body, the side cockpit, the strip-line ion engines—all indicative of the Corellian YT-2400, the latest in a long line of similar modular ships.

Ran knew it to be on loan from Jedi sympathizers on the Inner Rim, and it was one of the academy's fastest non-military vessels. Master Skywalker had it modified for deep space travel and long-range scouting and transport. It was perfect for the task at hand. Ran's supple fingers tingled with anticipation. It had been a very long time since he flew a Corellian ship.

"Shall we?" he gestured invitingly. Ascera sighed despairingly. No doubt she's already worrying about all the mishaps that could happen, he thought. A part of him sympathized. But it was a small part, and the part he usually suppressed with his typical outgoing candor. They walked up the boarding ramp into the side cockpit, Ascera strapping into the co-pilot's seat while he buckled in front of the control sticks.

A few switches, a handful of buttons, and one comlink communication later, the two young Jedi were streaking into the blue-white light of hyperspace.

* * *

They dropped out into realspace three days later. The scanners read green; there were no anomalies for enemy fighters out there. Ran knew the news would mollify some of Ascera's worries. "So far, so good," he announced gaily. "Come on, Ascera. Got your equipment?"

Ascera nodded, cinching down the buckles of her headdress. It was a simple leather affair, with a silvery metal plate affixed above her forehead. Ran was not familiar with the article, but he knew it had some manner of personal significance to Twi'lek women. It was not that he was not curious, but it was more that Ascera refused to tell him. In the ten years they had known each other, it was one of the few secrets she had kept from him, one that he had reconciled to never knowing.

But he knew she wore that article on every adventure, and watching her put it on calmed some of his own reckless abandon. Adventures meant unpredictability; it was reassuring to have some constants in them.

The Twi'lek lowered the boarding ramp and they both disembarked. Gamaraa Three seemed pleasant enough a place. According to the holovids and records that Ran had read during their three-day trip through hyperspace, the forest planet was highly advanced in its agricultural technology and Gamaran society relied on that technology to live in harmony with the trees. The Gamarans only took what they absolutely had to, using their replicator systems to mass-produce food products and other necessities from the most meager of starting material.

It was that unusual technology that intrigued Master Skywalker: How could the Gamarans make more from less? From all the Jedi Master could ascertain, the Gamarans were creating something from nothing.

A group of Gamarans came to the Jedi's ship. They were enormous humanoids, standing well over two meters and probably outweighing Ran five times over. Muscular, with corded arms thicker than Ascera's body, they moved with a hulking, lumbering gait. But they were far from intimidating. Their sallow faces were wide and perpetually jovial. Two mouths slit across their skin; Ran had read that one of the mouths was strictly for conveying basic emotions, while the other was for communication. He found the creatures profoundly fascinating in their open, emotional candor.

"Ah, welcome Masters Jedi," the creature bellowed cheerfully, sounding truly sincere in both voice and in the Force. "Your presence graces our fair city of Ghurr. I am Guru Hlookah, and I will be your guide. Your Master Skywalker has already informed us of your coming. I vow on behalf of my people that we of Gamaraa Three will do all we can to assure your enjoyment during your stay!" He punctuated his declaration with a hearty thump of his massive chest.

Ascera bowed deeply and respectfully. "We are honored to be here, Guru, and on behalf of the Jedi, we accept your hospitality." He turned a delicate blue-skinned hand over to herself. "I am Ascera Dax, and this is Ran Tonno-Skeve.

Ran nodded brightly in greeting. Forgetting the diplomatic nature of their mission and Ascera's tactful tone, the young Jedi burst forward to Guru Hlookah and let out in a terrific verbal whirlwind, "Hey, Guru, are those two mouths of yours used for sub-language communication? Sort of like the Ithorians or the Nautolans?"

The Guru blinked slowly, surprised at the outburst. Ascera looked mortified at Ran's bluntness and could only work her jaw soundlessly. Then the Guru let out an uproarious guffaw. "_Tikoh-sha_, young human, but you are an inquisitive one, indeed! Yes, you are correct. We use both of our mouths for communication. You see, we rely heavily on emotions to properly convey the deeper meanings of our spoken language."

"I'd imagine that it'd be difficult for you to speak in Basic or some other language then," Ran surmised with a glowing grin. He felt a kinship with these cheery beings, a oneness with their spirits that transcended the unity he felt with other Jedi in the Force. Not a clever thinker himself, the only way Ran could rationalize his newfound appreciation of the Gamarans was with a single thought: they knew how to have fun!

"Yes, it is," the Guru answered. "However, there are so few who can properly replicate the subtleties of sub-language communication, including droids. So we at least try to learn the common trading tongues, though we feel a kind of detachment from other beings when we do so." His tone was sad.

Ran smiled even wider. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that with us, Guru Hlookah!" The Gamaran blinked wonderingly, but Ran had already closed his eyes, falling into a trance. He called upon the Force, drawing its swirling energies around him. Suddenly, there was a dualistic tinning to his voice. He opened his eyes and saw that the Guru and the other Gamarans were chuckling joyously and that even Ascera was looking at him with approval.

Ran was radiating friendship, the Force's equivalent of a smile.

Ascera took his arm and whispered into his ear, "Good job, Ran. That was smart thinking. I wouldn't have thought of using the Force to duplicate their second mouth." Suddenly, a second Force-smile mingled with his; Ascera was also using the Force.

"The Jedi are truly wondrous people," the Guru noted with awe and respect, speaking in his own native language. He laid a large hand on each Jedi's shoulder. "You may not know the tongue of our people, but you can understand us regardless, because of our reliance on emotion. What you have done is truly a feat." The Guru raised his arms and spoke a string of words to his fellow Gamarans. Roaring welcomes sounded through the air.

The Gamarans led the Jedi to their lodgings in the Guru's own household. Ran had just gotten out of the refresher unit, throwing on his black shirt and trousers, when Ascera knocked on his door. "What's up?" he asked, letting her in. He took up his dark blue robe and wrapped it around his thin body.

The Twi'lek sat down on the edge of his bed. "I just wanted to congratulate you, Ran. I didn't know you could do something like what you did at the landing pad today. Whatever made you think of a trick like that?"

He shrugged, buckling on his utility belt and clipping on his lightsaber. "I don't know, really. I just followed my instincts." He sighed and a rare look of contemplation crossed his face. "Those Gamarans are so…honest with themselves, Ascera. They don't ignore their feelings like, say, the mathematical Givin. And they don't try to distance themselves from it like Jedi. But they don't enslave themselves to it like the Sith did. They're so…free. It's wonderful when you think about it."

He felt Ascera behind him, enclosing his dark hand with her blue one. It was a comforting touch, that of a longtime friend who knew how he felt inside when he did not have the words to express it. "You wish you could be like them, don't you, Ran?" Though it was a question, there was a definite certainty in the way she spoke. "Maybe you shouldn't have become a Jedi after all. You want this, the ability to live by your feelings only."

"I suppose I do. You know why, of course."

"That I do." She had been the one to find him, after all. She and her Jedi Master, now long dead. "But I also know that you willingly came with us because you wanted to be free. Master Oomfra told you that a Jedi does not crave the freedoms you want."

"Yeah, but at the time I thought all I wanted was a roof over my head and food in my belly. The academy had both." He leaned against the wall, resting a foot against the wallpaper. "I didn't think about responsibilities."

"You still don't," she noted tartly. He let the stab pass.

"That's what's wrong with the Jedi, I think," he said, almost absently, as if he were talking to himself. "We're too caught up in controlling ourselves, keeping ourselves from the dark side. I wonder if we'll fall to it because we're running away from it. I mean, what's wrong with being happy, being sad, being angry, and being in love? Its what makes us, well, human. Blaster bolts, love is what makes us different from the Sith and all those dark Jedi!"

"It also leaves you open to hatred," she reminded him patiently, "and that leads to the dark side. Anger and hatred may be a perfectly normal feelings, but they can easily control you."

A knock on the door interrupted any retort that Ran might have had. A Gamaran servant stood in the doorway. "Excuse me, Masters Jedi," he spoke in his dualistic native language, "I come on behalf of Guru Hlookah. He would speak with you over dinner on matters concerning your mission."

Ascera nodded. "Please tell Guru Hlookah that we had just finished preparing for the evening and that we will meet with him presently." The servant left and Ascera leveled a steady, meaningful look at Ran. "We'll continue this discussion later," she promised.

The dinner fare consisted of a rare and succulent local fish, split into two perfect halves. The Guru expounded on its excellent taste and the quality of the white wine that it had been marinated in. "This meal was prepared from its base materials!" he said proudly. His upper mouth made an O of awe.

"Base materials?" Ascera asked.

"Yes, yes, base materials. That means we did not replicate it with our machines. It was freshly caught, cleaned, and prepared without being processed in our replicator systems." He stopped and set down his fork. The upper mouth turned into a flat, meaningless line. "That's what you are here for, isn't it? Our replicator systems are like nothing the New Republic has ever seen, and they want it."

Ascera shook her head. "The Jedi have been tasked with bringing Gamaraa Three and its people into the New Republic," she began to argue.

"Master Jedi," the Guru intoned thickly, in a tired tone, "do not play this game, please. This morning's episode showed yourselves to be people of character, ones who wish to understand us rather than control us. The Old Republic sent their ambassadors to bring us into their federation, but they only wanted our machines. The Emperor tried to wipe us out for those same machines. There has been talk among my people of turning away from technology and reverting to our previous existence as hunters and gatherers, as our ancestors did. We just want to be left in peace, for it was in peace that our miracle machines were built."

The Gamaran thrummed with sadness and exhaustion, and Ran received the impression that Guru Hlookah had been the one to deal with all of those politicians and their demands.

An insight hit Ran, a vision from the Force: Gamarans kneeling down in front of a spherical crystal the size of a Corellian freighter. "These machines of yours…they're a part of your religion, aren't they?"

The Guru nodded. "Yes, young Ran. It is also a part of our deal with our god, Intak Ghlura, translated as the Force of Nature. But it means more than that. It is who we are, for the Gamarans are the sons and daughters of Intak Ghlura, its children and its flowers. It gave us sentience and artistry. It gave us our technology, that we might live with it in comfort, but without the threat of destroying it."

"And that is why you cannot entrust it to others," Ascera concluded. "You fear that it is a desecration of your beliefs, a sin before your god."

"More than that, young Ascera. If we give it to others who do not prove themselves worthy of its trust, then it would be used for selfish gain. We use our machines sparingly, for to overuse it is to abuse it. Indeed, we do not actually rely on it, but use it to bolster our supplies for the tri-annual droughts they come to our planet. We use it to restore our forests after the sun burns them away."

"What droughts?" Ascera asked. "There are no records of such a natural occurrence."

"That is because we prepare for it and act as soon as it arrives," the Guru answered. "That is why you never see it. We prove ourselves worthy of these machines by using them for this purpose. Any excess left over after we repair our world is saved for our use. It is our heavenly reward, just as it is our heavenly duty."

* * *

The two Jedi sat in Ascera's room, each thoughtful. "They are an interesting people," Ascera noted with admiration. "They speak of nature as a living thing, much like the Ithorians. But they aren't fanatical about it. It's like a job to them, one that they enjoy."

"Did you notice how the way he described their machines is like how we describe the Force?" Ran said. That arrested Ascera's attention; surprise was evident on her face. Ran continued, "Think about it. They do not use their technology for gain, but rather to do their duty—protection of the forests. They treat their machines with the respect due sentient beings, not as tools to be used. It's like Jedi with the Force."

He found Ascera smiling at him. "What?" he asked, confused. "Why are you grinning like that?"

She shook her head, headtails swinging. "It's just that I rarely get to see you say something smart." There was laughter in her eyes and in the way her headtails quivered.

Ran snorted depreciatingly. "You know I'm not the brightest bulb on the ship."

"No, but there's a difference between being intelligent and being wise."

"If you say so." He looked out the window at the setting sun and noted the play of the shards of light as they cut through the forest canopy. It reminded him of how the sunlight bounced off the facets of his kyrismodia crystal when he first claimed it. "Let's go home, Ascera. There's nothing left for us to do here."

"You want to go to Master Skywalker and tell him that we failed to get the replicators?"

He shook his head, his black locks swaying around his face. "I just don't want to disturb these people with our selfish demands. And they are selfish. Master Skywalker must see that."

"And maybe that's why he sent us here, then," Ascera whispered. Ran looked at her, at first in confusion, and then with dawning comprehension. Ascera pressed on, "He wanted us to know what it meant to be Jedi. What the Gamarans are doing, the way they revere the power they possess rather than use it for their own ends—that is how a Jedi should be."

"If it is, then it's a pretty thought-out lesson," Ran muttered.

Ascera grinned impishly, a rare instant in which she resembled Ran. "Well, he is a Jedi Master."

"Well, let's go home and tell him we succeeded at our mission. And we did—we learned something important, right?"

"Right."


End file.
